


Thin Red Magic

by ProperDisreguard



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, How the heck does that suit work?, Will add relationship tags if it goes there, slow to start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProperDisreguard/pseuds/ProperDisreguard
Summary: The story of Marinette and the Ladybug suit, and how the feeling of the wind through magical fabric emboldens her in ways no-one expected.(Still in progress tags may be added as I go.)





	1. None of the visual

When she first started, Marinette hated the ladybug suit. Don't get it wrong she grew to love the power, speed, agility, and durability it provided, but the suit itself wasn’t without flaws. It was tight, a silhouette that left very little to the imagination. Some literally magical blend of spandex stretchy, latex shiny, grippy textured, and Kevlar sturdy. Technically it was impressive but to her designer sensibilities, it was a mess. As time went on however, she fell in love with it. Mostly, to her own surprise, with how breathable it was.

The shift began when puberty started knocking harder. She wasn't fated genetically to become rather busty, but her body seemed to make up for some of that in the hips department. Growth spurts and shifting body proportions had a tendency to make the fit of the ladybug suit a roulette wheel each transformation. One day the back would readjust to new height making her feel stiff and springy, other times it stretched taught in unexpected ways...

It was an autumn night, her turn for patrol. Stepping onto her balcony, she could feel the air turning crisp. 

“Well Tikki, let's check how Paris is doing tonight. Spots On!”

A familiar rush of pink overtook her as she felt herself pulled up, a gentle tug into the air as the transformation started. The feeling of her clothes dissolving away as the red costume and black spots stitched themselves over her. Her first realization that her clothes vanished completely was followed by a flurry of ranting at Tikki when they got home, but it made sense eventually: can't have civilian clothes halting movement or ripping underneath. The fact that it was ALL her garments was alittle embarrassing though. As the tingling pink finished its pass over her hair, she stood triumphant, a burst of energy as the power rushed into her system.

But with one light gust, the wind told her something was different. She shuddered, an unexpected feeling washing over her. Darting back inside Marinette skidded in front of her full length mirror.

She was Ladybug, red and spots with mask and everything, but something didn’t feel right. She slowly spun, checking for holes or tears, anything to explain that feeling a moment ago. The feeling of the cold air right against her skin, like nothing was in between. She grabbed her stool and went to lift a leg and check it for rips, but before she could finish the motion the answer became clear.

It was stretched too tight. Namely in the crotch.

She sat down on the stool slowly, and felt as the fabric strained unexpectedly to shift with the movement, and the light chill of the room-temp lacquered wood pressing against her butt. Looking in the mirror, her hips were wider than she’d realized. She checked the sides. They seemed taught, tighter than normal. And most importantly : thin. The suit was always breathable, she would fight Akuma all day long and sweat right through it, but this was different. It was still mostly opaque and solid, but every touch from her fingers felt like it passed right through it, like it wasn't even there.

Hesitantly, she spread her legs to check further , already nervous and certain of her suspicions. One touch to her thigh told her it was the same, ladybug in appearance, but like bare skin to touch.

“Spots Off! Off!”

As Tikki reformed from the pink light, Marinette felt the sensation of her clothes returning, like she was being dressed from the nude buy an invisible tingling whirlwind. It wasn't what she was ready for, as her fall from the stool and cacophonous impact with the floor told her.

“Marinette! You ok? What's wrong?”

“Tikki, the suit, what was with that?! It was, like… Like nothing at all! I felt the wind right through it!”

“Oh! That’s normal Marinette!”

“Normal?!?! It was like standing on my balcony in the nude!” Came a panicked whisper as she hoisted herself up to sit on the stool again.

“Marinette, listen. I can only make so much suit at a time. Magic like that is a tricky thing, and it takes time with each new ladybug to balance the magical connections that let me form more. With you growing and shifting, I’m trying to rebalance your suit on the fly!”

At this point, Marinette had shifted from annoyed to the mode of a focused designer. Tikki didn't have enough fabric, so she was stretching what she had prepared literally and figuratively.

“That… makes a lot of sense.” She said, Rising from her seat and pacing the room. “... Will it still protect me?”

“Absolutely! Any actual impact or attack will hit like it usually does, but you’ll still be ok underneath.”

“... and it's only temporary”

“Yup! Just until I can form enough magic to expand the suit to a steady form.” Then with a little loop-di-loop in the air Tikki added “I could even replicate one of your designs for it!”

With that Marinette halted in her tracks, spinning on the spot to face the floating red Kawami. “Really!?”

“Of course! I know with how wonderful a designer you are you could invent something wonderful!”

Running over to her desk, Marinette started flipping through pages of sketchbook after sketchbook. With a happy gasp, she Ripped a page out and rushed back to the mirror, sticking the sheet of sketches in the corner of the frame. “Can we go for that?”

Tikki floated over to look at the sketches. Strong and defensive looking, with a high collar and a black midrif and shorts, she even had a sketch for a version with a jacket. “These are perfect Marinette! Definitely” 

Marinette was checking the mirror and drawings back and forth, trying to picture the outfit on her. With a small contented sigh she said “Well then, I’ll deal with a little cold. That will be so worth it”

“Don't worry! It won't be that bad!”

“Ok. Tikki! Spots On!”

Knowing what was coming didn't make the sensation any less clear for Marinette. The pink swirl moving along as she transformed. There was usually a split second as the line of clothes to suit transitioned where she could feel nothing there, but as the magic material filled in this time she blushed, noting how the feeling never went away. As the transformation finished she took one last look in the mirror before running off to patrol. It had all the feeling of Nudity with none of the visual.


	2. Denim and More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old folly leads to new experiences and a growing new passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on a new chapter. Hopefully I’ll ramp it up and get to more soon!

Chapter 2

About two weeks later and Marinette was sitting in class squirming ever so slightly. Not for the usual reasons of the yellow jacketed pain in her ass a row down and over who made her antsy with anger in the past, her concern about her super hero duties, or even her lack of study the last three nights on the topic now scrawled into the board. No, the extra pink in her cheeks and her almost rhythmic wiggling was because under her jeans... she’d worn nothing else.

Ever since that night, a feeling sank in after the initial wave of embarrassment. Excitement. The thrill of being Ladybug, that sense of power and movement became linked in her head to that chill in the air, to the feeling of... well... nothing (or so it felt). Tikki had said she could try to thicken the material early if she pushed it, but Marinette told her to hold off and save up strength, she could deal with the feeling. But she’d gone on patrols and fought an Akuma since then. Standing in front of a crowd of reporters while feeling like your most intimate places are on display does something to you even if you don’t realize. Soon, she was absentmindedly staying more exposed in her room. Sitting at her sewing machine in nothing but a loose shirt. Puttering and chatting with Tikki in her room post shower without putting anything on. And most importantly: sleeping in the nude. That’s how today happened. Standard morning of running late but this time her panties (black with green paw prints) never left the chaise she usually lays her next days outfit out on.

It was comfortable in ways she hadn't expected. The feeling of Denim on her waist was tingly, rough in one direction and then smooth in the other. The best/worst part was the seam, stiff and rough. When she stumbled into class this morning just as the bell rang she skidded into her seat it rode up on her, sliding into a resting spot usually protected from its invasive journey. She had only lightly noticed it until she looked down a row of seats.

There sat Adrien: glowing, handsome Adrien. Just a glance at him sent a blush across her face and a warmth down her body, pooling in her like syrup. He’d turned and given her a gentle wave, and as she skittishly waved back, she rocked in her seat just a little. A bolt had gone up her body right then. Ridge of denim rubbing up against soft, wet, and sensitive.

She paused. Mind reeling at the dichotomy of sensation and location. She slid in her seat slightly, trying to readjust away from the textile invader, only to feel that electric spark again. She slid back just a little, and another spark. Left a Mm: jolt. Right a hair: sparks. What started as a simple slide became a tiny vibration, a soft wiggle that pulled her forward in her waist and against the ridge.

As her mind raced at the sensation, her gentle sliding continued. “Am I really doing this?!” “What if someone notices?” “Is it visible, am I making a spot?” But as her hips from right back to left, front to back again just those few mm needed, the sensation rose like steam through her, and her worried thoughts melted into something else. “That feels good”, “I wonder how far I can…” “If I wore a skirt, Adrien might see” 

That last thought rested in her mind with a click, a rush of adrenaline played havoc on her heart rate at the idea of being seen like that, especially by Adrien. The display, the reveal. Marinette didn't always have the best self confidence or image, and had never thought of herself as that attractive; but there was something about it. The “look but don't touch” of it all, like a painting in the Louvre or one of her pictures of Adrien on her wall. She stifled the mix of a small giggle from the idea and a gentle gasp from the grinding fabric as it pulled rough against a small nub. She’d be a display, a little karmic return for the wall of pictures of Adrien she had, and the nights she spent with images of him in her head, guiding her fingers.

“Earth to Marinette!”

With a small jolt she turned to the source of the whispered comment, finding Alya Césaire‘s patented hazel eyes and sky high eyebrow questioning stare.

Alya whispered again, her tone shifting from snappy to an urgent worry: “What’s wrong with you today? Your more spaced out than ever girl!”

“Oh! Um.... just.... late night. Projects. Sewing. Thinking up some... new ensemble ideas.”

“You need to get more rest. Your up every night working on some new design and then you sleep like a stone when you rest at all. You look like your gonna keel over right here.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll try to sleep once this project is done.”

With a little tutting sound and a loving eye roll Alya turned back to the lesson again, and Marinette tried to do the same. But the feeling of the now heat and moisture softened denim seam insisting on wedging itself in a spot it fit all to well keep her mind fuzzy and light.

When lunch period arrived the ring of the bell shook her from her stupor, and with a small squeak of “bathroom, be back” to Alya she raced down the stairs and into the lavatory. She checked herself in the mirror. A small dark patch was there on the front of her jeans, her face was flushed, and her heart was beating in double time as much from her excitement as from her sprint there. And there was just one thought in her mind: “I want to feel more”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm still trying to get this together so it'll be a slow post.


End file.
